A waking dream
by cassiemortmain
Summary: Dublin, 1919 - Tom shares a sexy dream with Sybil and they decide to act it out - rated M. Part of my Erin go Bragh! AU, and a late contribution to S/T Smut Weekend!


_Author's note_

This M-rated fic was inspired by a post I made on my Tumblr a while back, when someone asked me about my sexy headcanons for the Bransons. One of them is that, after they were married, Tom and Sybil shared the dreams they used to have about each other. It started out as a ficlet but it's grown to a full blown story in its own right, which fits into my Erin go Bragh! AU.

Thank you to the lovely yankeecountess, who shared some S/T headcanons of her own with me when I was working on this story. Also, please consider this a (rather late) contribution to the S/T Smut Weekend from a few weeks ago, which I was away for. As always, Sybil x Tom remain the sexiest couple on Downton Abbey, so any day is a good day for S/T smut in my book!

* * *

 _Dublin, 1919_

Tom took the steps to their flat two at a time, fumbling for his keys as he approached the door.

 _Where are they, feck it?_

As he came into their little sitting room, he called out for his wife.

"Hello? Sybil, are you _mpphhh..._ "

He didn't finish his sentence because, as soon she saw him, Sybil threw herself at him. She kissed him all over his face, breathless, ecstatic, arms twining around his neck. He grabbed her around her waist, almost lifting her off her feet as he returned her kisses with interest.

"Where have you _been_ , Tom? I've been waiting..." she murmured between kisses.

He smiled. "Oh, have you indeed?"

"I've been wanting you so much today, darling, I couldn't sit still for wanting." Suddenly she was blushing. "If you hadn't come home when you did, I might have had to... well, I don't want to say..."

He put his finger under her chin. "You might have _what_? Come on, sweetheart, tell me."

She looked into his eyes. "I... well, before we were married, when we were still at Downton Abbey, sometimes at night I would imagine you were there with me, in my bed, and you were... well, _you_ know. And I used to... " Her look blurred as she trailed off.

"Used to... " he encouraged.

"I would touch myself, pretending it was you." Her blush deepened.

"Sybil, oh God, don't you know I did the same thing, nearly every night? You were on my mind all the time in those days – you _possessed_ me, body and soul. I would... well, perhaps one day I will tell you about it."

She kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, tracing it along his teeth. Her hands ran down his back, lower and lower, until she grasped his hips and pulled him into her. A confident smile curved her mouth against his as his erect cock pressed into her thigh.

"Tell me now..."

"Whatever you say, milady," he growled.

* * *

 _Downton Abbey, 1917_

Tom was sitting at the kitchen table, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, when he heard the sound, the sound he had dreamed about for so long.

 _Knock, knock..._

He walked over and opened the front door of their flat. Sybil was outside, wrapped in her robe, cheeks flushed, hair escaping from its long plait. Seeing her there, dressed like that, it wasn't hard for him to imagine her running to find him in his cottage, back when he was still her father's chauffeur.

"Branson? I'm sorry to visit you so late. May I come in?"

"Of course, milady." He stepped back to let her inside, and closed the door behind her.

"What can I do for you, Lady Sybil?"

She did that adorable down-up look he had fallen in love with all those years ago, and took a step towards him.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry, Branson, so sorry for this morning."

"What do you mean?"

"I was heedless and selfish – talking about the Rising that way, not even stopping to think what its impact might have been on you. Anyway, I've been thinking about it all day, and I just had to tell you how sorry I am. I won't be so thoughtless again, I promise."

Staying in character, he nodded his head, hands shoved in his pockets. "Thank you, milady. I appreciate that, and it's all right. I shouldn't have spoken to you in anger as I did, you couldn't have known about my cousin. I'm sorry too."

"When I heard you had been called up – well, I couldn't bear the thought of you in danger! So when you told me you weren't going after all – I was so happy, I didn't stop to think what I was saying."

She moved closer to him, lifting her hand to rest it on his cheek. The touch of her fingers was like a flame, sending tendrils of heat all through his body, and time seemed to stand still as their gazes locked. He had never seen anything as beautiful as her face in that moment – eyes like stars, a loose curl falling over one cheek, lips slightly parted.

Even though she was now his wife, he found himself waiting to find out what she would do next, so powerful was the scene they were playing out together.

"Branson – _Tom_." He shivered at her use of his name. _"_ I have to tell you the truth, I can't keep it in any longer. I'm in love with you – it took the fear of losing you to help me realise how I feel."

Hearing her words, there was nothing he wanted more in the world than to take her in his arms and kiss her. But he knew he had to wait – he was the servant, and she was the daughter of an Earl, his employer. In his dream, it had to come from her first.

She moved her hand down to rest on his arm. Letting it slide up the tense muscles of his bicep, she let out an appreciative sigh. Then, she wrapped both of her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to press her lips to his.

At first the kiss was gentle, feather light – as if he were afraid she would vanish back into the night if he held her too close, kissed her too deeply. But when she moaned against his lips, he felt his passion for her burst through him like a river overflowing a dam, sweeping away all convention, all restraint.

He stepped back and his legs hit the edge of the old armchair by the fire. Breaking their kiss, he sat down, bringing her with him to sit on his lap.

Their mouths came together again and began to move against each other, their tongues to dart, their hands to caress. Before he knew it, her plait had fallen apart and his fingers were buried in her hair as it trailed around her shoulders.

The world was spinning around him as he pulled away from her with a groan.

"What is it?"

"Milady..."

"Call me Sybil, please."

"Sybil..." The low rumble of his voice seemed to shiver though both of them. "Sybil, we must stop. I can't – you don't know what you do to me. I love you so much, it's killing me. Kissing you like this..."

* * *

 _"What happened next in your dream?"_

 _"You won't be shocked if I tell you?"_

 _"I promise – I want to know."_

 _Tom whispered in Sybil's ear and she smiled. "Oh really?"_

* * *

"What if I'm not asking you to stop?"

Sybil pulled away from him, sliding her hands under her robe, tugging it from her shoulders. Tom's heart began to race as he saw the soft skin of her throat, the lacy edge of her nightgown, slowly revealed to him.

Unable to help himself, he leaned towards her, pressing his mouth to the hollow between her collarbones. Her hand came to rest on the back of his head and she let out a gasp of longing.

"Tom... I want to... I want to be closer to you."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, moving to stand up and letting her robe fall to the floor. Then, she held out her hand to him.

Following her lead, he stood to pick her up in his arms and carry her into what he imagined as his small bedroom. Then, he laid her down on the bed and stretched out beside her.

The way her midnight dark waves of hair fell across the white lace of her nightgown seemed like the most perfect thing he could imagine. When he kissed her again, she came into his arms eagerly, her body soft and warm under his hands, her tongue responding to his.

It didn't take long for their kisses to deepen. She moved further into his body, thrilling him as she ran her hands down his back, around his waist, across the back of his neck. When she pulled away from him after several long minutes of embraces that grew ever more fierce, he felt a primal ache in his belly to be parted from her.

"Tom, I feel... as if there's a flame burning through me, a fire I can't put out. Do you feel that too?"

He nodded, tracing down her cheek with one finger. "Yes, my love." His use of an endearment with her for the first time brought a shy smile to her face. "Every minute we're together, every minute when I am thinking about you, I feel that too."

"And – there's something inside me, curling and twisting, tighter and tighter, needing to be set free. I think you can..."

"What do you mean?"

She sat up in the bed, pulling her nightgown over her head.

"I don't want to wait... until everything is settled. I want more. Give it to me, please. I want you to."

* * *

 _"How many times did you think about this, love?" Sybil smiled down at Tom._

 _"Oh, only a few hundred. The idea of being the first man to kiss you, to touch you, to... it drove me crazy."_

 _"I thought about it too_ – _sometimes, late at night, I felt..._ _Well, I knew there was something, something I wanted to discover with you."_

 _He pulled her gently back down onto the bed. "God, just let me look at you..."_

* * *

Even though Tom knew they were just playing a part, he felt his mind go blank at her beauty. It was as if he were seeing her like this for the first time – in that moment, Sybil wasn't yet his wife, the woman he'd come to know so intimately, so lovingly, in the few months since their marriage. Instead, she was the young, ardent girl he remembered – not sure what she wanted, but unable to stop herself reaching for it anyway.

His eyes locked on hers. He hesitated – _could it be possible?_ – until she reached for his hand, taking it in hers and placing it on her bare skin.

 _So warm, so soft_ – he could hardly believe it as his fingers traced the rounded underside of her breast, then moved up to touch her nipple, which rose up hard and tight at his touch. Her breathing quickened as his hand drifted to her other breast, making the same movement, drawing the same response.

Barely able to breathe, his fingers brushed down towards her stomach. She trembled and he pulled his hand away.

"Sybil, I don't want to do anything you aren't comfortable with. If you're not ready, I'll wait, I'd wait forever."

"No, please don't stop. I'm ready." She reached for him, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and he pulled it over his head.

Only two thin layers of fabric had separated them before, but now – there was nothing like it in the world, feeling her skin cleave to his as they started to kiss again. He could have died from the delight of it.

She was so giving, so passionate, her arms winding around his neck, her body pressing against him, her tongue teasing against his lips until he opened them to her. When he started kissing her shoulders, her neck, her breasts, she moaned, lifting herself closer to him, wanting even more of his touch.

When he lifted his head, her eyes were hazy and she was biting her lip.

"More, Tom, please, more..."

"Tell me what you want."

"I want..." She broke off to take a shaky breath, and then tried again.

"I want you to make me... come."

* * *

 _"Did you even know how to use that word back then?" Tom quirked an eyebrow at Sybil._

 _"Oh, you'd be surprised what a nurse overhears in the wards!"_

 _"Mmm, well, if if gave you ideas like that, who am I to argue!"_

 _Her impatience was only partly feigned. "Come on, it's your dream... let's get on with the next part. I'm waiting!"_

* * *

Hearing Sybil say that word sent the blood roaring in Tom's ears, as well as to another part of his body. But as much as he ached for her, he held himself back.

 _This is all about her, what she wants, what I can give her..._

He leaned down to take her nipple between his lips, sucking on it and feeling it rise up again. Then, daringly, he bit gently on it and heard her cry out. A cry of raw pleasure, a cry that set his senses reeling.

Her creamy skin gleamed in the moonlight slanting over the bed as he rained kisses over her body. Her fingers grabbed at his hair as his head moved lower, tracing his lips along her rib cage and down her belly. Then, pushing her knees apart, he slid down to lie between her legs. He ran his hands up the inside of her thighs, following the heat of her arousal, and hesitated just a moment before pushing a finger inside her.

She was so warm, so tight, drawing him further into her. Her legs wrapped around him as he put his head down to find the place his fingers were already exploring. There was a tender, hard bud at the heart of her and, when he touched it with the tip of his tongue, she moaned aloud, pulling his hair as she begged him for more.

"Oh, God, please... yes, my darling..."

Hearing her say those words, feeling her smooth thighs brush against the evening stubble on his cheeks, drove him onwards. He took her clit between his lips and began to suck it, swirling around it with his tongue, pushing a second finger into her core and pumping in and out.

Her response was more than he could have dreamed possible. She began to writhe on the bed, letting go of his hair to grab the blanket with her fists, lifting her hips to push herself closer to him, urging him on in that gorgeous husky voice of hers.

The taste of her – _ah, God, I could never get enough of tasting her_. The silky texture of her skin, her warm, sweet scent, the way she responded to his touch, straining for more, always more. The girl of his dreams, brought to wonderful, intense life, filling all his senses.

He was completely lost in the moment now. He'd made love to her like this most days since their marriage, in every room of their flat. Once, he'd even done it up against the wall of the Rotunda when he'd picked her up from work and couldn't wait to get her home, dragging her around the corner into an alleyway and lifting her skirt. And he knew how much she adored it, because she'd told him so, in exquisite detail.

But tonight – imagining Lady Sybil coming to him in his cottage, lying with him, kissing him, naked in his bed, added a dimension of forbidden passion to the act that made it even more extraordinary. Realising that, in the dream they were acting out, he was about to give her her first, illicit orgasm – that thought was almost enough to make him come himself.

But he held on, for as long as he could, drawing out her pleasure to a knife edge. At last, he let her fall over the brink and she arched her back and screamed, convulsing against his lips over and over. Her legs stayed wrapped tightly around his shoulders, holding him against her until her blissful agony was spent. Then, she released him and he moved up the bed to take her in his arms.

When they kissed this time, he knew she could taste herself on his lips. His tongue circled around hers, echoing its movements on her clit, and she pressed herself against him, twining her legs around his, wrapping her arms around his neck, as close to him as she could be.

No need to speak. Their kisses told more than words ever could.

* * *

 _"Sybil, oh darling, that was incredible. Even better than my dreams," groaned Tom when they finally broke apart._

 _"My turn next time._ _Oh, and just so you know?" Sybil pushed her hand against him, where his cock was pressing hard against the rough material of his trousers. "You'll be naked too."_

 _"You little minx... tell me now!"_

 _She winked. "Really, Branson, I thought I gave the orders!_ _"_

* * *

 _A/N_ –

There's more to tell here I think. At the very least, I need to give Sybil a chance to share one of her dreams with Tom, don't I? ;)

I also wanted to add – my main headcanon about Tom's dreams of Sybil isn't about sex at all. It's about his longing to hear her say that she loved him and would marry him, that she chose him and the life they could build together over her gilded cage at Downton Abbey. That's one of the reasons I love these two – not only are they scorching hot, but they _love_ each other so very much. *le sigh*


End file.
